Chapter 73
Since ancient times, fists have cured many illnesses.
The madness disease, arrogance disease, the “bully-the-weak-fear-the-strong” disease, and even the fake insanity disease.
Among them, the nose punch — the art of “re-aligning the nasal bone” — has the added benefit of rattling the opponent’s head, momentarily blinding them and throwing them into utter confusion.
And when that punch came from a woman who had always seemed powerless, its effectiveness was beyond certain.
“Where are you trying to run, Jinmyo?”
“Aaagh!”
Maybe it was because the Thousand-Faced Demon had spoiled her rotten, but her scream sounded no different from that of a bratty four-year-old.
“Aaaagh!”
“I said, where do you think you’re running off to?”
Ye-il swiftly stepped forward, dodging and closing in each time Jinmyo tried to flee, diligently “curing” her as she went.
Beaten several times without putting up proper resistance, Jinmyo’s brain seemed thoroughly scrambled. She couldn’t even walk straight anymore, staggering before finally collapsing.
But she was stubborn—she didn’t faint easily.
“Who… are you? Who the hell do you think you are, to make me—me!—this Thousand-Faced Demon…”
“How sad. You’ve already forgotten me?”
“And just who the hell are you…?”
Standing before her swaying head, Ye-il looked down at Jinmyo.
They say a person’s hardships are written on their face.
The woman’s features spoke volumes of her rough path through life. But rather than her fierce impression, it was something else that drew attention—
Blue eyes.
A child of a Westerner—Jinmyo.
That was the name the Thousand-Faced Demon had called her for a few days when he’d first brought home the scrawny girl years ago.
‘…Now that I think of it.’
“If you meet a Westerner, grant them one request.”
Heaven helps those who help themselves, they say. Perhaps fate was offering a chance to finally fulfill that annoying deathbed wish.
“Which of your parents was the Westerner?”
Even half-delirious, Jinmyo’s eyes immediately sharpened.
Ah, right. Her blue eyes were her reverse scale. Ye-il hadn’t meant to provoke her—she’d simply forgotten. Either way, since she carried Western blood, that made her a “Westerner.” Close enough.
“Do you have a request for me?”
If she said “Die,” Ye-il might’ve been disappointed—but thankfully, Jinmyo didn’t waste her breath on something so predictable.
“You lunatic girl… I asked who you are…”
Being called a “girl” at her age felt… oddly refreshing.
“Is your request for me to reveal who I am?”
“Let’s say… yes.”
Ye-il gazed into Jinmyo’s panting eyes for a moment before answering cleanly, without hesitation.
“I am Wolgeom Ilsal.”
Jinmyo blinked slowly, then sighed.
“So you’re insane.”
“Not insane—Wolgeom Ilsal.”
“I’ve seen it all now… a madwoman claiming to be Ilsal herself…”
“Why don’t you believe me? Because I look too normal?”
“Have you already forgotten? I told you Wolgeom Ilsal was attacking the Martial Alliance…”
“That fake—”
A fake, huh? Ye-il’s lips shut tightly mid-thought.
Something felt… off.
What was it? Jinmyo’s expression. There wasn’t even a flicker of doubt at her words—just a faint smirk that tugged at Ye-il’s attention.
‘Even though she should see me as her mortal enemy…’
Ye-il decided to change her approach.
“Wolgeom Ilsal is dead. The fate of a traitor.”
Perhaps it wasn’t something Jinmyo could just brush off—her face went cold, shaking her head as if to regain her senses.
Ye-il kindly revealed the hidden truth.
“But she came back to life. That’s me.”
“…Now I understand. You’re why Taoist Bangwoo doted on idiots.”
“How could an assassin who disappointed the Heavenly Commander survive? Because she hid well. That’s me.”
“…You’re insane. Fine. I’ll admit this much—you clearly know something. About our Assassin Pavilion. Which makes it all the more puzzling—who the hell are you?”
“I told you. Wolgeom Ilsal.”
“If you’re going to pretend, at least do it properly. Trying to confuse us with lies won’t—”
Jinmyo chuckled crazily, then weakly lifted a trembling finger toward Ye-il’s face.
“Your eyes! Start with those eyes first!”
Ye-il unconsciously squinted.
“With eyes like that, you dare claim to be Ilsal? Absurd!”
“…What kind of eyes should Wolgeom Ilsal have, then?”
Still sneering faintly, Jinmyo murmured, her eyes dimming as she drifted toward unconsciousness.
“The Thousand-Faced Demon said…”
“…”
“Wolgeom Ilsal was… a steamed potato…”
“…”
“A soulless… steamed potato of a madwoman…”
And with a final breath like a dying whisper, Jinmyo’s head dropped as she fainted.
What… did she just say? A soulless steamed potato?
‘She’s gone completely mad.’
Maybe Ye-il had hit her too hard. That was the only reasonable explanation for such nonsense.
And then—
“Ha.”
From somewhere deep in the verdant forest, a bright, crisp laugh burst like a firecracker—followed by a booming roar of laughter loud enough to tickle her ears.
“Ha ha ha! Hahahahaha!”
Ye-il’s gaze turned icy toward the direction of the sound.
Jin Cheongak.
“Ha ha! Hah!”
“Come out.”
Moments later, a tall, familiar man appeared, clutching a tree for balance as he wheezed from laughing too hard. He wiped away tears and steadied his breath before stepping closer. Then, with a nudge of his toe, he prodded the unconscious Jinmyo at Ye-il’s feet.
“Ha! Hmph. So this is the great Thousand-Faced Demon… yeah, right.”
“Send her to Seol Seorin. She’ll be useful for digging into Yeonghwang Yuse.”
Ignoring Jin Cheongak’s look of weary annoyance, Ye-il gave her order.
“And don’t forget—she knows who I am. So whatever you do, don’t let her leave alive.”
“…She knows your identity?”
With skeptical eyes, Jin Cheongak looked her up and down, as if questioning whether she believed that herself.
“I told her directly. You were watching the whole time, weren’t you?”
He probably had been—shadowing her since she’d left, careful not to let Taoist Bangwoo notice.
“So you think that’s not reason enough for me to doubt you, Lady Namgung?”
He shook his head, feigning concern as a smirk ghosted across his lips.
“Fine. I watched it all—right up to the part where my lady was all cozy with some man. The sight made my guts twist in jealousy… damn, my stomach’s cramping again…”
“What about the Martial Alliance?”
“They were wringing their hands, thinking you were just a helpless newborn kitten. They were so easily fooled it was almost entertaining to watch…”
“The Martial Alliance.”
Jin Cheongak exhaled sharply through his nose.
“How should I know? I’ve been glued to your tail this whole time. But if what that woman said was true, then the Alliance must be in chaos right about now.”
As Ye-il started walking, Jin Cheongak called after her.
“You’re heading to the Martial Alliance?”
“Yes.”
To meet Wolgeom Ilsal.
